Seth moves swiftly, ducking behind the door with all the grace that a man his size can muster. But he’s so damn big, it’s almost comical. His head brushes over the doorframe. If my dad takes one step into this room, we’re screwed.
I crack open the door just wide enough to push the supply cart through to block his entrance, plastering on my brightest, most convincing smile.
“Hello, Caleb.”
His face flinches slightly. There’s a slight wince at the use of his name. For a brief second, guilt twists in my chest. Calling himCalebdoes feel cold but calling himDad, well, that’s something he’s never been to me.
Sure, when I talk about him in stories or explain who my birth father is, he’s my dad. But he’s never actively been that to me. Definitely not in the sense of the way that Seth is to Sawyer. He simply contributed the sperm to my existence and then peaced out. My mom was my dad and my mom wrapped up in one.
“Hey, doll,” he says, his voice smooth, but the warmth feels forced. I can tell even that term of endearment feels off for him and great, now we’re both uncomfortable. “Penn mentioned you were in here getting some supplies for him.”
“Yeah,” I gesture to the cart, “dry needling.”
I step fully into the hallway, angling my body just enough to keep the door mostly closed, shielding Seth from view. Caleb looks as nervous as I am, shifting from foot to foot, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his expensive suit like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
He clears his throat and looks up at the ceiling like he’s struggling to find the words, and I get it. This is weird. Where do we start? I’ve pictured this conversation a thousand times over the year and never expected it to look like this.
We’ve never had anything in common except for our shared love of sports and our careers revolving around them. But beyond that, we’re literal strangers. He doesn’t knowme. And I don’t know a thing about him other than his stats that I researched obsessively when I was a little girl.
Well, that and he’s the billionaire owner of the number one professional hockey team in North America where I work.
“What…uh…what are you doing here? Do you need something?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual.
“I was looking for you,” he says, his voice trailing off awkwardly.
My throat tightens. Looking for me? Why? I glance back at the door, silently praying that Seth stays as still as a statue because one wrong move, and this entire situation is about to explode. And none of us are ready for that.
“Well, here I am.”
The wince returns, a flicker of discomfort flashes across his face.
“Yes… here you are.”
My dad’s a big guy—huge, really. Sometimes I forget just how tall he is. It makes sense why he had such a successful basketballcareer. Even though he’s in his late forties now, he looks as fit as some of the older guys still playing on the Mayhem. Six-foot-seven and carrying a solid amount of muscle, he towers over me, filling the space with his broad frame. Right now, he looks anything but confident or comfortable. He looks…like a child.
And despite everything—the years of silence, the way he walked out of my mom’s and my life—I find myself throwing him a bone because what my mom always told me is true. Everyone deserves love and grace; And everyone deserves a second chance.
“Sorry I haven’t swung by your office yet,” I say softly, forcing a tight smile. “Things have been…crazy. You know, with the internship and starting the new job.”
The way his eyes light up for just a second nearly undoes me. He wants to believe I've been meaning to stop by. That I wanted to see him. We both know I'm lying, and we both know why. He gave me this job. He knows exactly where I've been, and he hasn't come to find me either. We've been circling each other for a year, waiting for the other one to move first.
“No problem. I would’ve liked to see you.” His gaze softens, his next words quieter. “How are you settling in with the job?”
My throat tightens. He wanted to see me.
Don’t do this, Bri. Don’t romanticize this.
I silently pray that Seth keeps his big, gorgeous ass still and doesn’t make a sound.
“Things are going well.” I close the door shut behind me. My dad steps back, giving me the space I need to maneuver the cart. I push it next door toward the training room, throwing a silent prayer to the heavens that my dad will follow and not open the supply room door. Thankfully, he does.
“The staff is great, and the players have all been respectful.”
He nods. “I’m happy to hear that.”
I open the treatment room door to find Penn sprawled out on the table, his eyes glued to his phone. There are very loud moans coming from his phone that fill the awkward silence. Oh, shit. Penn jolts upright like he’s been electrocuted, fumbling with the phone as the unmistakable sounds of porn continue to play at full volume. If I’m not mistaken, that actually might be Mr. and Mrs. Wellington—
“Fuck! It’s not—” He stumbles, trying to come up with an excuse but then he notices Caleb standing behind me. My dad steps around me, glaring at him.
